


it feels like a battle, it's more like a fight

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band), The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Harry is underage Matty isn't, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He feels revolutions, battles, <i>world wars </i>inside of him whenever this kid is close, and Matty knows he's irrevocably fucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it feels like a battle, it's more like a fight

**Author's Note:**

> It's been 84 years... This is basically an idea that was going to remain unpublished like the majority of my Matty/Harry fics, but decided to publish it after working on it for ages and constant nagging from certain people. You know who you are. This fic was basically half-written by grapefruits, so credit to her. 
> 
> Un-betaed, all mistakes are my own. POV alternates between Matty, Anne, and Gemma. 
> 
> Title belongs to "All That I Really Wanted" by Manchester Orchestra.

“H-hello?”

 

“Anne? Anne, it's Denise. I'm sorry, I do not know who else to call...”

 

Anne blinks and glances at her alarm clock, and hell, it's three in the morning. It takes her a brief moment to realize it's her old friend Denise, who she hasn't talked in ages. No, actually, that's a lie, because they have been sending each other Christmas cards and photographs of their kids ever since Denise moved to London. They have even joked about arranging a marriage between Gemma and Matty, which causes Gemma to storm out of the room every time Anne teases her about it. She hasn't forgotten about Gemma's short-lived crush on Matty when they were both toddlers.

 

“What's wrong?” asks Anne sleepily.

 

Denise sighs loudly, and it doesn't take that long for the tears to flow.

 

“Everything.”

 

///

 

Matty rides in the passenger seat in silence, sulking as he toys with the lighter in his hands. He still shivers without notice, even though the days of withdrawal are long gone. He aches and craves and wants, but there is no way he will be able to score something while they're here, and it is shit, shit, shit.

 

“We'll have fun,” says Denise happily. “It'll be nice to be away from the city, all that noise.”

 

“Sure,” grunts Matty, wondering if there's a dealer he can meet up with in this shitty little town. He would send George a text, but he has limited access to his mobile thanks to his mother's new rules, and it is such a nuisance, really. He can't even text his dad, not that he wanted to, and not that his dad is a conversationalist, but still.

 

Matty doesn't remember Anne, or Gemma, and the youngest kid was born after they moved. He doesn't care, he just misses the London scene, getting high and piss drunk with his friends, and okay, maybe overdosing was not a great idea, but he's alive, isn't he?

 

“You'll love it,” insists Denise, and Matty wonders if she's trying to convince herself more than she is trying to convince him.

 

///

 

Anne gets a text from Denise, sending her into a panic. They have not finished cleaning the house, and Gemma refuses to help because somehow her nails are a more pressing matter. Harry has been sweeping and vacuuming since yesterday, but Anne still feels that it is not enough.

 

She double checks the bedroom where Denise is staying, making sure everything looks proper and nice, and then she checks Harry's bedroom, which is where Matty is staying. Harry told her that he didn't mind sharing his room (and bed) with Matty, that she didn't have to spend money buying an inflatable mattress when Matty can just stay with him, and that's that.

Harry, the pragmatic.

“They're here,” says Gemma as she stares out the window, blowing air on her nails.

 

“Good, oh my, they're early,” Anne laughs nervously. “I haven't seen them in so long! This is so strange.”

 

“I wonder if Matthew is still cute,” ponders Gemma, and Harry makes a disgusted sound at her. “What? He was so fit when we were toddlers.”

 

“He just got out of rehab,” Harry reminds her. “It doesn't matter if he's fit, he needs time away from negative environment-”

 

Gemma silences him a glare, and Harry sticks his tongue out at her in response. Anne rolls her eyes at both, and gets startled when she hears the doorbell ring. She rushes to get the door and is greeted by a squealing Denise, and they hug each other like they've haven't done that in years, but well, they haven't.

 

“Oh, darling, you look gorgeous!” exclaims Denise before hugging her again.

 

“You too! Love the hair,” beams Anne, patting her on the back. “Come in, come in. Matty!”

 

And well, Matty looks totally different from the last time Anne saw him. The sides of his hair are shaved, and he smells like cigarettes, and he looks bored and fed up with the world. He's wearing nothing but black clothes, his battered leather jacket giving him an air of trouble, which he was for a while there.

 

“Hey, sweetie,” says Anne, giving him a quick hug. Matty doesn't hug back, but smiles forcedly, and he looks around the house in utter disdain.

 

Denise greets Gemma and Harry with the same enthusiasm she gave Anne, and Matty nods at Gemma and Harry, not even bothering to say hello. Harry smiles at Matty, which seems to perturb the other boy, causing Matty to look away quickly. Anne decides that she doesn't like him much, but that she needs to give him a chance. Denise mentioned how difficult Matty had been since he left rehab, and before that, so she just wants to help her friend.

 

They lounge around in the living room as they catch up, Matty pulling a thin book out of his back pocket, reading it as he ignores the world around him, and Anne notices Harry giving her anxious looks.

 

“Um, Matty,” starts Anne, and Matty looks up from his book, seemingly annoyed that he was interrupted. “You're staying with Harry, okay? He insisted he's fine with sharing a bed with you, but I can still go buy an inflatable mattress, or-”

 

Matty glances at Harry, who smiles at him, and then he looks back at Anne. “Sure, that's fine,” he says indifferently, and goes back to his book.

 

“Matty,” says Denise sternly, but her son ignores her anyway.

 

“Um,” says Gemma, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Maybe we should have dinner now?”

 

“I made toast,” offers Harry. “To go with the...”

 

“Harry can't cook,” says Gemma to Matty, who looks up and smirks. “Ah, look at you, you have emotions!”

 

“Sometimes,” replies Matty, and he sounds entertained.

 

///

 

Dinner was a tedious affair, with his mother and Anne talking all over each other, and Harry trying to make conversation with Matty, failing of course, and Gemma is quite charming with her dark sense of humor, but it doesn't make Matty feel any less miserable.

 

 

“Hey, I know what mum said back there,” says Harry as they walk down the hallway once dinner's over, Matty dragging his bags behind him. “But we don't have to share the bed, I can-”

 

“I don't care,” interjects Matty, already sick of it all. He just wants to go home, he wants to go out with his actual friends, not this small-town bullshit. They get to Harry's room, and it's alright, decent size and pretty spacious bed, not too terrible. But it isn't Matty's room, and it's shit.

 

Harry is trying to make small talk, which Matty is not interested in, and he just needs to get out of here already.

 

“You can put your stuff here,” says Harry cheerfully, pointing at an empty spot in his closet. “Now, the sleeping stuff-”

 

“Y'know I used to snort coke until my nose bled?” blurts Matty. “That I once stole heroin from some tosser and ran off, bullets almost hitting the back of m'head?”

 

“Um, I like the right side of the bed but-”

 

“I've sucked cocks before, y'know?” says Matty stubbornly. “Licked them, sucked them, swallowed them until my throat was raw.”

 

Harry flinches but doesn't move, nostrils flared as Matty moves closer to him. Matty takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it up, blowing the smoke on Harry's face. Harry coughs, but remains standing, defiant, and Matty steps back.

 

“Sorry, mate,” he grins sadly. “I... I'm sorry.”

 

“Mum said-” Harry gulps, offering Matty a warm, nervous smile. He coughs again, and his eyes are red as he looks away. “Mum said you're kind of troubled. Knew what to expect.”

 

"I've been referred to as a lost cause," explains Matty. "A likable, but still quite dysfunctional young man." He laughs, because it is easier to, it is easier to avoid feeling anything, and he is brilliant at it.

 

“I don't think you're likable, yet,” says Harry, still smiling. “But we still have time, right? I... Loo. Brush teeth, yeah?”

 

Harry steps out of the room and Matty stares at the cigarette in his hand, wishing he had something stronger.

 

///

 

Matty wakes up, cold sweat running down his forehead as he tries to catch his breath. He is disoriented, completely fucking confused, and where the hell is he?

 

The walls don't look familiar, this is not his room, this is not the ward at the rehab facility, this is-

 

“Hey.”

 

Matty squints, staring at the boy sitting next to him. They're at Anne's house. He's sharing a bed with Harry, the youngest. He's not at some house party where he passed out with cocaine decorating his nostrils, and he's not lying next to some random person he met the night before.

 

“Are you... okay?” whispers Harry, slightly too close to him, and Matty shifts, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

 

“Brilliant.” Matty lies down again, back turned to Harry, and he closes his eyes, pretending to sleep. He feels Harry shift, and the bed creaks, and fuck, he will never be able to sleep in here. He thinks and thinks and thinks, and craves, and misses, and is terribly unhappy.

 

He hears Harry get out of bed and leave the room, and wow, the kid is sick of him already. That's perfect, because likewise, and Matty tries to clear his mind as much as he can, because he is actually incredibly tired, and he needs sleep to forget where he is.

 

Harry comes back, and Matty presses his eyes shut, waiting for the kid to get in bed again. Harry pokes him in the back, and Matty flips over slowly, huffing as he does.

 

“Got you some water,” says Harry kindly, handing him a bottle. Matty takes it, eyebrow raised at Harry, who merely smiles and goes back to sleep.

 

///

 

 

“That's all he's been doing since leaving rehab,” says Denise quietly, nursing the cup of coffee Anne set in front of her minutes ago. Anne glances at Matty, who is sitting on the couch, nose buried in a ratty book.

 

“Well, at least it's just reading, love,” smiles Anne.

 

“He was bored,” continues Denise, sighing loudly. “That's what he told me, about doing drugs. He was bored, he was bored.” Her voice cracks and she looks away, wiping at the corner of her eye with a napkin.

 

Anne pats her on the back, wishing she could say something helpful, but she notices that Matty has now been joined by Harry.

 

Maybe he'll be a good influence for Matty. Maybe.

 

///

 

“I like your necklace... thing.”

 

Matty looks down at his chest, and then starts reading again. “Oh, yeah. It's the key to my heart.”

 

“Funny.”

 

“I'm hilarious.”

 

“What are you reading?”

 

Matty looks up, rolling his eyes at the curious teenager sitting across from him. He could tell Harry to piss off, but their mums are there, so he chooses to grunt and show him the cover.

 

“Kafka?” Harry's eyes widen with surprise and he seems pleased, which makes Matty sneer incredulously.

 

“Read him before?”

 

“A couple times,” shrugs Harry. “I liked The Penal Colony, but not my cup of tea.”

 

“Ah.” Matty closes his book and reaches for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. “Wanna join me?”

 

“I don't smoke,” hesitates Harry. Matty stares at him, slowly retrieving a fag, eyes calculating and merciless, and then he smirks.

 

“But you like being outside, yeah? Let's go take a walk.”

 

///

 

Matty drags his feet as they walk around, birds chirping and sun shining, and yeah, Matty isn't going to survive here. Harry is humming a song, hands deep into his pockets, curly hair an utter mess. Matty exhales smoke, watching it disappear in front of his very eyes, the lingering smell bringing him comfort.

 

Harry talks about a couple books he's read, and it's boring but it's a distraction. He makes a few jokes that manage to make Matty laugh quietly, and soon enough his pack of cigarettes is gone.

 

“I'm talking too much,” says Harry suddenly.

 

“I'm a talker too, so s'okay,” shrugs Matty, a familiar sense of urgency kicking in the back of his brain.

 

“No, you're not,” laughs Harry. “You're just sulking behind books, and yeah.”

 

“You don't know me, mate,” says Matty simply.

 

Harry doesn't respond to that, so they both continue walking in silence, and Matty decides he has had enough. He scratches his arms out of habit, which are thankfully covered by his black jumper, and he looks up, sun momentarily blinding him.

 

“What do you even do in this town for fun?” snaps Matty.

 

“A few things, y'know, hang out with the lads after school,” says Harry simply. “We'll get some food, look at girls. Drive out for a movie, sometimes.”

 

“Fascinating,” mocks Matty. “Truly. How aren't you suffocating in a town like this, I do not understand.”

 

Harry stops walking, turning around to face Matty. He seems offended, and maybe Matty finally hit a nerve.

 

“Nothing suffocating about it,” he says, tone slightly dark. “I'm a people person; it's nice to know everyone around here, I love them all, so.”

 

“Well, I am a people person too,” says Matty stubbornly. “But, see, I need constant attention and frenzy and action and fucked up shit-” He breathes deeply, body shaking in frustration. “Not this, this is bloody boring.”

 

Harry steps closer to him, and for a moment Matty thinks that he's going to get into a fight, and he's ready, oh he is ready, but Harry grabs him by the arm instead. “C'mon, follow me.”

 

Matty does, dragging his feet even more, and they walk for a few minutes until they approach something that resembles a hill, and they stop.

 

“Let's roll down this hill,” says Harry, acting as if this is the most exciting adventure ever known to man. Matty glances at him in disbelief, then looks back at the hill, then back at Harry. Yeah, Harry is definitely taking the piss out of him.

 

“You're joking,” he says heavily, but then it's obvious Harry's not, because he's already walking away from Matty. He rolls his eyes, because, well, if he were spending time in London he would be snorting coke off some girl's stomach, not rolling down a hill with a bloody fifteen year-old.

 

“I'm just humoring you!” yells Matty as he approaches Harry. “You seem nice and all, so might as well play along, yeah?”

 

“Right,” grins Harry. “See you at the bottom, you wanker.”

 

Matty doesn't even have time to react; Harry is already rolling down, laughing hard and yelping as his arms hit the grass. Matty sets his sunglasses down, feeling like a total idiot, and follows. He is clumsy, and he feels his lighter slip out of his pocket, and fuck, it hurts, but he hits the bottom and okay, that's a mediocre accomplishment.

 

“C'mon, let's go again,” says Harry excitedly, grabbing Matty by the back of his jumper.

 

It doesn't take long for both of them to get extremely competitive. Harry keeps winning, somehow managing to get to the bottom before Matty every single fucking time, and Harry is a competitive little shit, causing Matty to trip and not apologizing about it, clearly enjoying it.

 

“AHA!” cheers Harry after he beats Matty for the hundredth time.

 

“Piss off, Styles!” says Matty angrily, and they run to the top, breathing swallow and shirts soaked in sweat. Both tug on each other's shirt so the other one loses, and they roll, they roll down the hill andpossibly break some bones in the process, and they hit the bottom, hard, and Matty is aching all over but he laughs, laughs like he hasn't in forever, and Harry is laughing too.

 

“Fuck,” breathes Matty, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair, which is cluttered with twigs and grass.

 

“Hold on,” gasps Harry happily, spitting out some grass as he leans in, his fingers quickly finding Matty's hair. He patiently pulls out the twigs and smiles at Matty, who is sitting there in some kind of shocked state, unsettled by Harry's proximity.

 

“T-thanks,” stammers Matty, still not able to move. Harry moves closer, a cheeky smile on his lips, and winks at him.

 

“I.” He grins widely. “Won.”

 

He smacks Matty on the back of his head and stands up quickly, running away before Matty can kick his arse, and fucking hell, Matty will fuck him up. He's such an annoying little-

 

Matty runs after him, and Harry laughs all the way back to the Styles' home.

 

///

 

The days go by in an uneventful manner; it mostly consists of Harry and Matty taking walks and punching each other, of Matty reading novels in the living room while Harry texts, and it is a routine. Matty goes on walks with his mum too, and they avoid talking about what led to Matty's rehab, which is fine with him.

 

Matty calls his dad every other evening, exchanging pleasantries until he tires of it, and hands the phone to his mom.

 

He likes it here, but he won't say it loud. Matty isn't as bored as he thought he would be, but he thinks that's Harry's doing, Harry and his constant talking and dumb jokes. He likes Anne too, and Gemma, even though Gemma clearly doesn't trust him around Harry, or something, because she is always looking at them through narrowed eyes.

 

But, yeah, he really likes Harry.

 

He tries to pretend that he doesn't look whenever Harry is changing clothes in front of him, that his eyes don't linger on his back, or his stomach, or his chest, or that trail of hair just above Harry's waistband. He does not fantasize about sucking Harry's cock when he's in the shower, or what it would be like to fuck Harry, and he doesn't come to the very thought. No.

 

Okay, so, he finds the kid attractive. And he's fun to hang with. And he's kind of good-looking. Matty isn't blind, so that's totally understandable. The thing is, his chest feels heavy whenever he's around Harry, but not in a bad way. It's not as if they have had deep conversations, or anything, but Harry's mere presence is troubling to him, there is this aura about him that Matty cannot explain, and it's driving him crazy.

 

He likes Harry. He really, really does.

 

///

 

 

“A party, huh?”

 

“Well, no, I told mum is a get-together sort of thing,” blushes Harry. “It'll be nice to get out of the house, and you'll see we're not as boring as you think.”

 

“Hmm, yeah, we'll see,” mocks Matty.

 

It's nice though, to be out here, doing nothing but enjoying the fresh air Matty rarely gets to partake in. They lie down, cloudy sky above them, and Matty exhales.

 

“The smoke looks kind of pretty,” says Harry quietly. “Whenever you do... that thing?”

 

Matty laughs, closing his eyes as he takes another drag. “Exhale, you mean?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Harry turns the volume on on his iPod, and he hums along, little snippets of broken one liners escaping his lips every now and then. Matty enjoys it, smokes the afternoon away as they both say absolutely nothing, and it's comfortable, and it's not at the same time. It scares Matty a bit because they barely know each other, yet, Harry probably already knows more about him than his own mother does.

 

“Are you bored?” blurts Harry, and Matty turns his head to look at him. Harry is staring right at him, eyes wide and questioning.

 

“No. I quite like this, actually,” shrugs Matty.

 

“Yeah?” Harry looks sincerely happy, and closes his eyes, smile still on his lips. “I like it too.”

 

“Good.”

 

Matty observes him, the way Harry's eyelashes flutter as he breathes deeply, the way he nervously bites his bottom lip, mouth still crooked. Although they've been sharing a bed, Matty has not taken the time to look at Harry like this, all defenseless and quiet, not talking incessantly, just... there.

 

And fuck, he's all kinds of beautiful.

 

He pretends he doesn't notice when Harry's hand brushes his, timid yet lingering, as if asking for permission. Matty's heart dies in his chest, his senses suddenly defensive, as if they're telling him this is a bad idea, which it is, but maybe...

 

He's not shivering, no, he's not trembling at all as he slowly slides his fingers between Harry's, expecting the boy to punch him, or worse, seem disgusted by it. Matty waits, waits for a reaction, because Harry hasn't opened his eyes, but he cannot be asleep, so.

 

Harry squeezes back, smiling broadly as Matty's heart decides to beat again, and it's all bloody amazing, really, life has never been this good.

 

Matty snorts and looks away, eyes fixed on the sky, and he feels something that, he thinks, might be something close to happiness.

 

///

 

As soon as she hears about it, she knows something is off. Her mum might believe Harry, but Gemma definitely doesn't, so she corners her brother on his way to the kitchen.

 

“Harry, what is this about going to Liam's?”

 

Harry jumps, startled at Gemma's sudden appearance. Good.

 

“Well, Liam's having a get together, we're playing some video games-”

 

“Harry.”

 

“Alright, it's a house party. But don't tell mum.”

 

Gemma sighs, wanting to smack his brother's head, but refrains. Harry is usually a rational child, but he is being blinded by his new friendship with Matty, trying to impress the insufferable arse. It amuses her, how both of them act like nothing is going on, but it is, they're just too thick to realize that. They need to figure it out on their own, but Gemma won't spoil it for them.

 

“Are there going to be any drugs at this party, Harry?” asks Gemma seriously. “Is this a good idea?”

 

“Gemma, you know we don't do that-”

 

“The setting, Haz,” sighs Gemma, because Harry isn't getting it. “Just because you don't participate, it doesn't mean it won't be there.”

 

“I'll be there with him, all right?” says Harry impatiently. “I just want him to have some fun while he's here.”

 

“He has had enough of that,” says Gemma bitterly, then reconsiders. “Wait... you don't think he is?”

 

Harry looks away, a sad-puppy look on his face, and oh, well, this is deeper than Gemma thought. So Harry has been oblivious to the smile that shows up on Matty's face whenever they are together, or how they hang on to each other's words as if they are the most eloquent gentlemen on earth, and that's, well, Gemma can't point it out without embarrassing Harry.

 

“Who knows, maybe he'll like the party,” muses Harry.

 

Gemma's brain clicks, and she grins at her brother, patting him on the back. “Yeah, you might be right. Find him a nice girl while you're at it, yeah? Maybe he'd like that.”

 

Harry freezes, his lips forming a thin line, and he smiles back awkwardly. “Um, sure, maybe,” he stammers. “But he likes boys too, I think? So maybe a nice lad? I don't know his type, though. Maybe he should just stay with me, not get in trouble.”

 

Gemma tries not to burst out laughing at how uncomfortable Harry looks, so she just nods serenely and eggs him on. “You're gonna make sure he never leaves your sight, right?”

 

“No, no, I'll be careful.”

 

“I'm sure you will be.” She smirks knowingly, and pats him on the head. “Sorry, go on to the kitchen. Your secret is safe with me, all of them.” Harry seems puzzled but shrugs it off, walking away. Gemma waits until her brother is out of her sight, and she storms into Harry's room, which causes Matty to almost fall off the bed.

 

“You're properly dressed, yes?” asks Gemma, covering her eyes.

 

“No, Gemma, I've been wanking on your brother's bed. Want to join?”

 

“Fuck you.” Gemma uncovers her eyes, and Matty is sitting there, placing a book on his lap. “Okay, listen, Healy. You better behave at this party-”

 

“It's not a party.”

 

“Piss off, I know what it is,” says Gemma, warning in her voice. “If you do anything stupid, if something happens to my brother, I swear I will rip out what's left of that ghastly haircut of yours.”

 

“Please,” scoffs Matty. “Harry is going to be too busy with his friends, I'll be the sad loser sitting in the corner.”

 

Oh, so Matty isn't aware of it either, of the MattyslashHarry moments. Jesus.

 

“I swear to god,” mutters Gemma impatiently. “You miserable wankers.”

 

Harry appears at the door, holding a box of biscuits, and stares at Gemma in confusion. “You will be the death of me,” she huffs, and storms off. She lingers in the hallway, half-hysterical at the fact that she sees everything and they see nothing.

 

“Is your sister okay? She looked like she was about to break down.”

 

“I don't know, she's an odd one.”

 

“Just like you, eh?”

 

“Heeeey, shut up.”

 

Gemma chuckles quietly, knowing that these idiots are going to end up giving her a stroke.

 

///

 

It doesn't take long for Matty to spot him. He looks at everyone through half-lidded eyes, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve, seemingly anxious. He has flaming red hair, which doesn't help his case, but oh well. Matty feels the warmth rush to his fingertips, he tastes rust in his mouth, and it's almost as if his veins know it too.

 

“Be right back,” mutters Matty into Harry's ear, who nods and smiles before returning to his conversation with Liam.

 

Matty makes eye contact with the bloke, eyebrow arched as he discreetly exits the crowded living room. He steps outside, the cool summer air hitting his face, and he waits. He lights up a fag, shaking a little with expectation, and he hears the sliding doors open behind him.

 

“Okay, I've got some good stuff,” the kid says excitedly, and he must be new at this.

 

“Got something worth my time?” asks Matty quickly, glancing at the doors. Harry could come outside any minute, and find him, and he'd be fucked. Terribly fucked.

 

“Eh...” the kid seems defeated for an instant, but then his face lights up. “I've got some ace blow, yeah? Want some? Cheap, too.”

 

Matty grunts and negotiates with him for a couple minutes, and finally manages to score a half a gram from the kid without paying much, and that's more coke than he's seen for a long time. He briefly remembers what led him to rehab, but it's just one hit, just a few lines... he can snort some here, some back at the Styles' home... and it's over, for sure.

 

“Matty?”

 

Matty looks up, baggie already pocketed, and he waves innocently at Harry. The dealer walks out of sight, head low as he walks past Harry, who has his eyes narrowed at Matty.

 

“Lots of people,” shrugs Matty, cigarette on his lips. “Got overwhelmed, mate.”

 

“Right.” Harry seems upset, and he takes a couple steps closer to Matty, eyes still narrowed, so narrowed that Matty isn't sure how he's able to even look at him.

 

“I know him,” says Harry slowly. “His name is Ed. He sells pot to Liam and the lads all the time. Did you-” Harry gulps, eyes searching every inch of Matty's face. “Did you get something?”

 

“Michael Jackson records,” says Matty calmly. “Remember? You asked me what I would save in case my house caught fire. That's what I would save.”

 

Harry ignores him, just steps closer, eyes fixed on Matty's jacket. He looks disappointed, as if he can see right through the leather, and Matty also recognizes an expression he knows too well: guilt.

 

“You don't understand, I need it, I-” starts Matty.

 

“I thought you were feeling better?” asks Harry. “I mean, you've been here, and we have been having fun, yeah? Why did you-”

 

“Wait, are you under the impression that you've fixed me?” sneers Matty, gesturing his hands around in incredulity. “You thought that? Harry, love, please-”

 

“No, I just-”

 

“We're mates,” snorts Matty. “It's nice to have someone to talk to, but you won't replace dope.”

 

“Fuck off,” says Harry angrily, turning around to walk away, but Matty grabs him by the wrist, not letting him move.

 

“Don't.” Matty gulps, his pocket suddenly burning a hole through his pocket, and he feels incredibly tired. “Don't go. I need it, okay? I didn't get one last time, I-”

 

“You almost died, you insensitive git,” growls Harry, cheeks red. “That was your last time. Mum told me, you know? That they had to call Denise and tell her that your heart stopped for a moment. All because you couldn't control yourself. Can you imagine? And you want to go at it again? You fucking-”

 

“Shut up, you know nothing,” spits Matty venomously, his grip tightening. “You've known me for a few days, and now you think you can understand?”

 

“You selfish idiot, you are so infuriating and-”

 

“Here, fuck.” Matty lets go of Harry's wrist and reaches for the plastic bag inside his pocket; he drops it on the grass, stepping on it with the heel of his boot.

 

“Matty-”

 

“Piss off, Harry,” he says icily, and storms off.

 

///

 

It takes him a long time to find his way back to the Styles' house, but he does, and his boots are covered in dirt, and he's tired, and sweaty, and a bloody pathetic mess. He sneaks in quietly, knowing that everyone is asleep already. He opens the door to Harry's room and he falters, seeing that Harry is already in bed, wearing a loose t-shirt and boxers, one of Matty's books in his hands.

 

“Hey,” says Matty. “You got here fast.”

 

“Liam gave me a ride,” says Harry coldly. “Thought about calling you, but decided to let you calm down. And go get high if you wanted to.”

 

“I wanted to,” admits Matty. “I was so close.”

 

Harry doesn't look at him for long and focuses his attention back on the book.

 

“Look at me, Harry,” pleads Matty quietly.

 

“Why?” Harry's lips are pursed, and he doesn't seem angry anymore, just sad. “I'm sorry I took you there. It wasn't a good idea.”

 

“You think this is your fault?” says Matty in disbelief, closing the door behind him. He takes off his jacket, and glances at his shirt, wrinkling his nose as he realizes how dirty it is.

 

“Isn't it?” says Harry, slightly nervous.

 

“I'm a big boy, I know what I'm doing.” He pauses. “I'm sorry. It was hard to see the disappointment in your eyes, too.”

 

“You don't care about my opinion,” scoffs Harry. “Why would you?”

And this is it, the moment Matty has been tiptoeing around, because it's not okay, it shouldn't be, not when he's older, not when they haven't known each other that long, but it's eating him up, slowly, a burning he can't get rid of.

 

“You don't realize that every time I look at you, I feel all these revolutions inside of me,” blurts Matty, and immediately regrets it.

Harry stares at him, book still in his hand as his lips part in surprise. He sits on his bed, face pale and cheeks stained red, and he clutches the book close to his chest as if it is some sort of shield.

 

“I'll sleep on the couch,” says Matty in defeat. “Um, I'll just need a pillow or something-”

 

“You chat me up and then you do this?” asks Harry, a smile forming on his lips.

 

“I was not... chatting you up,” says Matty slowly, confused.

 

“I feel all these revolutions inside of me,” echoes Harry. “Sounds like a very Matty way of chatting someone up. Or do you say this to all the lads?”

 

“Couple of girls, too,” smirks Matty. “No, I- You're okay with it?”

 

Harry shrugs, placing his hand on the empty spot next to him. Matty sits down, shivering a little as Harry tosses the book aside, his eyes studying Matty closely. His hand finds Matty's, fingers circling on the back of his hand, and they never break eye contact.

 

“Have you ever kissed another bloke?” asks Matty, half-teasing, half-curious. He runs a finger over Harry's lips, wondering if they taste as good as they feel under his fingertip. Fuck, it would be a crime not to kiss him; it would be simply tragic.

 

“I haven't, no,” says Harry, sitting still as Matty examines his face.

 

“You're so unsettling to me,” whispers Matty, leaning in to rest his forehead on Harry's. “Deeply so. I can hardly breathe when you're close to me.”

 

They stay like this for a couple minutes, Harry's breathing shallow yet steady, his breath hot on Matty's lips, and if a moment should be framed and displayed forever, it should be this one.

 

Harry blushes, settling his hand on Matty's cheek. “I'll be gutted if you don't kiss me right now.”

 

“Well, we can't have that, can we?” chuckles Matty. He closes his eyes, grinning like an idiot, and kisses Harry at last. It's slow, and tentative, and fuck, it's the sweetest thing Matty has ever tasted. It baffles him, because he feels warm and brilliant and it's not due to a chemical high, it's all Harry, his mouth, his sighs, his fingers tangling in Matty's hair, his own heart racing as if he is about to overdose on electricity, and this, this is it, the high Matty has been chasing ever since he knew what a high was, and he can die now, he can disappear forever now, it's over, done.

 

Harry pulls back, gasping, lips red and swollen and perfect, and he smiles at Matty as if he's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and Matty has to look away.

 

“No,” mutters Harry, placing his finger underneath Matty's chin and forcing him to meet his eye, which Matty does reluctantly.

 

“Liked it, yeah?” asks Matty nervously. Harry responds to that by kissing Matty, arms wrapped around Matty's neck, and Matty decides that he likes that answer very much.

 

///

 

Anne is cracking open a few eggs when the boys finally make their way into the kitchen, and Denise greets them warmly, hugging both of them and kissing them on the cheek.

 

“So? How was hanging out at Liam's last night?” asks Anne as she reaches for the salt.

 

“Oh, it was fun-” starts Harry, but then Matty clears his throat and steps forward.

 

“I bought some coke last night,” says Matty simply. Anne drops the bowl she's holding and Denise gasps loudly, covering her mouth with her hands in utter horror, and Gemma continues to munch on her cereal, amused at the scene.

 

“You did what?” snaps Denise. “Matthew, what the bloody fuck is wrong with you?”

 

“I didn't use,” retorts Matty. “Harry here convinced me not to, so. He's a good lad, I'm sorry I put him in this situation.”

 

Harry's face goes red and Anne is simply furious, pointing her finger at Matty. “You purchased illegal drugs whilst hanging out with my underage son and his underage friends. I will not have this, I will-”

 

“Stop!” Everyone turns to look at Gemma, who seems completely and utterly annoyed by everything. “Everyone needs to calm down, and look at this rationally. Matty hasn't been out of rehab for that long, Harry made the mistake of taking him to a house party-”

 

“House party? Harry, you said it was just a get together,” groans Anne, covering her face with her hands.

 

“Oops,” grimaces Gemma, shrugging at Harry, who is fixedly staring at his bare feet. “Sorry, brother. But anyway, yeah, it was a bad situation, both were idiots. But Matty is still clean, Harry is still an idiot, just let it go.”

 

Gemma pours more milk on her cereal and digs in, chewing as she smiles triumphantly at all of them.

 

“Look, we'll just leave, okay,” says Denise tiredly. “You've been too kind to us, and-”

 

“No.” Anne uncovers her face and glances at the boys, who are definitely not looking at anything but the floor, and she sighs deeply. “Harry, you should have known better. You too, Matty. I am aware that it is hard for you, but you also need to think of those surrounding you. Your mother, your father. You endangered not only yourself, but my son. I am incredibly disappointed.”

 

She sighs again, and glares at both of them. “You're both grounded. I'm sure Denise will agree with me.”

 

“Definitely,” nods Denise, and Matty groans. “You were really reckless and selfish, Matty, be grateful you're not getting it worse.”

 

Matty mumbles an apology, face slightly red, and Anne goes back to cooking. The boys sit at the table, mumbling their thanks to Gemma, who says something about them owing her a favor, and that she won't intervene next time.

 

“Anne,” says Denise softly. “I am so sorry about this.”

 

“Gemma's right,” shrugs Anne, smiling at her friend.

 

“No harm was done this time,” protests Denise. “I'm gonna go check on Matty's things to make sure he isn't keeping something there. I am so embarrassed.”

 

“I'm sure it's not easy for him,” admits Anne. “I just got really upset because Harry was there, and then he willingly took Matty to some party, and he lied to me, and your son could have relapsed-”

 

“And that would have been his fault, not Harry's,” interrupts Denise. “If he hadn't been there to talk Matty out of it, I know my son-” Denise's voice breaks, and she gulps, glancing at the kitchen counter. “I'm really glad Harry was there.”

 

She gently squeezes Anne's shoulder before turning to Matty and ordering him to follow her, which Matty does begrudgingly. They both leave the kitchen, and Anne turns to face her children.

 

“You are in so much trouble,” says Anne, shaking her head at Harry.

 

“Mummy, I'm so-”

 

“Shut it, Haz, you're gonna be cleaning toilets for the rest of your life,” teases Gemma.

 

“What was going through your head?” Anne hisses, crossing her arms as she leans against the counter. “Taking him to a house party? First, you lied to me. Second, that was so bloody stupid, Harry. You know the kid just got out of rehab!”

 

“I'm sorry, I just wanted him to have fun,” mutters Harry, lips crooked in a sad smile.

 

“He was having fun, Harry,” chimes Gemma, wrapping her arms around her brother. “I could see it in his face when you tossers were outside the other day, just talking. Like he was fucking smiling so much.”

 

“Yeah?” asks Harry hopefully.

 

“I need to think about a proper punishment for you,” says Anne, exhaling loudly. “Just... just help me set the table now.”

 

Harry untangles himself out of Gemma's embrace and walks over to the stove, detouring just to give Anne a kiss on the cheek. She smiles, but still tries to show that she is upset with him by glaring.

 

“I'm sorry, mum,” whispers Harry sadly, and Anne pats his cheek with her free hand.

 

“I know. Now set the table.”

///

 

“She went through all your stuff, eh?”

 

Matty glares, stuffing a shirt into his battered duffle bag and shrugs. He's angry, and he would rather not look at Harry in the eye. He is also embarrassed, embarrassed that such a nice lad has been dragged into this, and he is not mentioning the kiss, or the subsequent make out session, or how bloody alive Matty felt when Harry's fingers touched his skin.

 

“You, um... are you upset with me?” asks Harry tentatively, and Matty finally looks at him, and fuck, Harry looks like he is about to pass out.

 

“No,” sighs Matty, collapsing on the bed. “Come join me, yeah?”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Matty closes his eyes, and the bed creaks under Harry's weight. He rests his head on Matty's shoulder, slowly placing his arm on his stomach, fingers resting on Matty's hip. Matty smiles in spite of himself, and his hand finds the small of Harry's back, tracing circles over his shirt, pulling him closer.

 

“You make me feel like I'm a teenager all over again,” mutters Matty, pressing a soft kiss on Harry's forehead.

 

“You just stopped being a teenager a few months ago, calm down,” chuckles Harry, and it's too much, too damn much, and Matty can't control himself, desperately searching for Harry's lips, and yes, Harry is kissing him back just as wantonly, their grunts and gasps not discreet enough as Matty places himself on top of Harry, grinding against him as Harry's fingers find Matty's hair, and fuck the fucking kid is pulling on it, and he needs more, he needs so much more.

 

“Oi!” Gemma exclaims as she knocks loudly on the door. “Denise is taking us shopping, Haz! Hurry up!”

 

“Wha-” gasps Harry, lips shiny with spit. “Um, uh, Matty's coming too?”

 

“About to,” mutters Matty into Harry's ear, nipping on his earlobe as Harry tries to playfully push him away.

 

“Nope, just you and I,” snaps Gemma impatiently. “Come on!”

 

They listen to Gemma's retreating steps and they're back at it, hurried kisses and hoarse gasps, and Harry needs to stop wearing clothes, now, and-

 

“HARRY!”

 

“Shit,” snorts Harry, shoving Matty away as he tries to get to the door. Matty can see the outline of Harry's cock, how he's trying to rearrange his jeans so it isn't too obvious, and he winks back at Matty.

 

“I hate you,” grins Harry, and Matty sits on the bed, smiling like an idiot.

 

“We'll continue this later,” whispers Harry, and he hesitates, but goes back to Matty anyway, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, and he's gone.

 

 

///

 

Matty grunts as he cleans the windows, brushing sweat off his forehead. His shirt is drenched in sweat, but he won't take it off, and Anne sighs sadly as she continues to trim her plants.

 

“Matty, do you want to step inside for a bit?” asks Anne warmly. “We can have a cold drink, or something.”

 

The boy looks back at her and nods, and it amazes Anne how it seems that Matty can talk to Harry for ages, but he still won't say a word to her. Granted, he isn't too happy with Denise's punishment, which was to clean and wash every single window in the Styles' household, but it could have been much worse.

 

Matty sips on cold lemonade as he examines the photos sitting on the mantel, picking one up and staring curiously at it.

 

“Is this Harry and Gemma's dad?” asks Matty, holding the frame up.

 

“That's him,” nods Anne, adding more sugar to her drink.

 

“Is it weird?” inquires Matty. “Not having him around? Like, do your kids miss him?”

 

“It was quite weird at first,” admits Anne. “But we got used to it. Harry stepped up, even though he was young.”

 

“Harry's a good kid,” says Matty in an uncharacteristically sweet tone, setting the frame down.

 

“He is.” Anne watches Matty, how he smiles when he looks at photos of a younger Harry and Gemma, particularly focusing on the photos where the whole family is included.

 

“Nice of you,” mentions Matty. “To keep all these out here, even if your marriage didn't work out.”

 

“He's their father,” says Anne. “That will never change, regardless of the situation.”

 

“Hmm.” Matty finishes his lemonade and walks back to the kitchen, and Anne hears him rinsing his glass out before coming back to the living room.

 

“I wanted to-” Matty grimaces, and tries again. “Apologize. I know I put Harry at risk and that wasn't my intention. You've been nice enough to have us here, mum needed this, and I guess I did too.”

 

“Thanks,” smiles Anne. Matty is picking at his arms, which are completely covered with his long, black sleeves, and she realizes that the stubborn, rude young man that showed up a few weeks ago is still just a kid, a kid who's been through an unpleasant ordeal, and that breaks her heart a bit.

 

“I fucked up,” continues Matty. “Honestly, if Harry hadn't been there, I would have relapsed. No way around it, yeah. I won't put him in that situation ever again, because I like him, he's a good lad.”

 

“Matty-”

 

“Look, Anne, I don't know what's gonna happen once we leave here,” blurts Matty. “I am going to do my best not to fuck up, but I am stupid, so who knows. I probably will. But all I can tell you is that I am really... happy here, I think this is what being happy is like. So regardless of what happens later on, I want you to know that.”

 

Anne's throat closes, and she aches to hug Matty, but he wraps his arms around himself and looks away, a sad smile on his lips.

 

“Hey, you won't fuck up,” says Anne reassuringly. “Your mom has faith in you, you're a good kid. You're going to be okay.”

 

Matty looks at her, and shakes his head.

 

“I'm not Harry, Anne.”

 

She doesn't know what to say, and Matty seems to know this, so he awkwardly waves goodbye to her as he steps out of the living room. It doesn't take long for Anne to hear the hose running in the backyard, and she wipes her eyes as she makes a mental note of hugging her kids once they get home.

 

///

 

 

“I had smoked pot before,” says Matty simply, sitting on Harry's windowsill, cigarette smoke facing outside so the smell doesn't linger in the room. “It was fun, and all. But I have a very addictive nature, and I was always looking for something more.

 

“Pills were easy to come by, and next thing I knew, coke was my best friend, I was buying dope almost every day... my life was a scene out of Trainspotting.” Matty pauses for a second, allowing himself to take a drag out of his cigarette. “Except, this was all very real. And I loved it. I miss it sometimes, you know? The feeling.”

 

Matty stops talking for a few minutes, and he can sense that Harry is aching to ask something, but he doesn't push it. He knows what Harry's going to ask, and he isn't sure he wants to talk about it.

 

“What happened that night?” Harry asks finally. “The overdose?”

 

“Details are not important,” states Matty. “I did a ton of coke, drank too much, messed up my veins too much. I don't think I wanted to die. I just wanted to have fun.”

 

“And was it?” asks Harry.

 

“Yeah. I mean, the aftermath wasn't. But the event itself, yeah. Loads of fun.”

 

Harry sighs, and Matty sneaks a glance at him, and he sees the boy staring at the ceiling, as if he's pondering the meaning of life. “Sounds like it wasn't too terrible of a time for you, yeah?” Harry looks at him, and Matty averts his eyes.

 

“Oh no, it was a rough time.” Matty swallows, running his tongue over his teeth as he thinks of the next thing to say. “It got to the point where I would flirt and blow guys just to get a fix. It wasn't some kind of sad story, mind, I knew well what I was doing. I had fun with it too. I wasn't a victim.”

 

“I bet they didn't mind,” blushes Harry. “I would have given you anything.”

 

“Yeah, right,” scoffs Matty, staring at the cigarette slotted between his fingers. He's sitting on the windowsill, watching the smoke escape away from him. It's a nice breeze, and Matty closes his eyes.

 

“Try me.”

 

Matty opens his eyes and looks at Harry, frowning as the latter smiles at him, arms crossed as he sits on the bed.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You know, let's pretend you're still using and need money, or a fix from me.”

 

Matty gapes at him, amused at Harry's honest and curious determination, so he decides to play along.

 

“Tell me,” says Harry. “How would you do it?”

 

Matty exhales, smoke coming out of his nostrils, and he tosses the cigarette aside. He jumps off the windowsill and walks over to Harry, standing in front of him with an affectionate smirk on his face.

 

“Hey there,” says Matty, voice slightly gruff.

 

“Hey,” replies Harry, smiling yet acting uninterested.

 

“I've been observing you, you know,” continues Matty, taking one step closer.

 

“I noticed. What's your name?”

 

Matty pauses, placing a finger underneath Harry's chin, leaning in so they can make proper eye contact, mirroring something Harry did to him during their first kiss. “Whatever you want it to be.”

 

Harry laughs, pulling Matty by the front of his shirt, kissing him fervently. “Idiot,” sighs Harry, pulling away to grin at Matty. “That line was utter rubbish, but I'm convinced.”

 

Matty kneels in front of Harry, placing his hands on Harry's trembling thighs, and Matty presses a kiss on his forehead. “Sorry if my life story isn't fascinating. It's just about a spoiled kid doing selfish things.”

 

“I like listening to you,” shrugs Harry.

 

“Well...” Matty looks at Harry, looks at his wonderful and charming face, and can't help but feel somewhat at home. “You're the first person in a long time to...”

 

“What?”

 

“To actually listen to me.”

 

Harry kisses him, hard, and Matty responds to the kiss with everything he has. Their hands roam everywhere, pulling at clothing and hair and skin, searching for something that will grant them some kind of peace, at least Matty's.

 

“God,” breathes Matty as Harry straddles him, clothed cocks rubbing against each other, and fuck, fuck, Matty sees nothing but Harry's open mouth. The whimpers that escape Matty's lips sound like pleas, like broken prayers that only Harry can answer, and he does, he grants Matty absolution in the shape of skin kisses and tender bites, broken gasps and needy hands.

 

///

 

 

Anne walks in and the sight startles her at first; Matty and Harry sitting on her son's bed, Harry's fingers tracing lines on Matty's uncovered arms. Matty seems nervous, as if waiting for Harry's reaction, frowning when Harry's fingers linger on a particular spot.

 

She notices the track marks on Matty's arms for the first time, how patiently Harry is examining them, as if they're fascinating, but sadly so. She clears her throat, and the boys look up, slightly shocked and completely embarrassed. Anne mumbles a half-assed apology and closes the door behind her, and she can hear the shuffle, the awkward laughter, Matty's quiet cursing, and realization sinks in.

 

//

 

The restaurant Anne chose is quite lovely, if generic, but Matty is glad that they're in a public setting. He enjoys messing around with Harry, but he fears that he is going to ask the bloody kid to elope if they spend one more second on their own.

 

“We could share a steak,” Harry suggests, moving closer to Matty. They're sitting across from Denise, Anne, and Gemma, who still has that eternal suspicious look on her face.

 

“I don't want to share,” retorts Matty playfully, and Harry just smiles at him.

 

They continue talking about the menu, and Matty feels Harry's hand find his own under the table, his finger wrapping around Matty's thumb. Matty clears his throat, face bright red, and he looks at Harry from the corner of his eye, offering him a half-smile.

 

A waiter soon comes by and takes their order, Matty still reeling from the fact that Harry is sitting next to him, finger wrapped around his own, and quiet happiness is threatening to implode in his chest. However, that happiness turns into something else the moment they get their food. Anne and Denise are chatting happily about their respective dishes when Harry's hand lets go of Matty, trailing its way up to Matty's crotch. Matty holds his breath when Harry starts palming him through his jeans, and he pretends he is just really enjoying his meal.

 

“Matty, dear, do you want to try my salad?” asks Denise, and Matty shakes his head vehemently, pretending to be occupied with his steak.

 

“It's okay,” he gasps. “Just. Yeah.”

 

Harry chuckles, sipping on his soda as he continues to torture Matty. Gemma frowns at them, and then a strange smile appears on her face.

 

“Um, Harry?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can you pass me the salt?”

 

“Right now?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Harry hands Gemma the shaker with his free hand, his fingers now deliberately torturing Matty, who is about to choke on his steak from suppressing his moans. Harry is going to be the cause of his early demise, not drugs.

 

“May I have the pepper too? At the same time?”

 

“Gemma, grab the salt already!”

 

“You have two hands, don't you? Be nice, now.”

 

“Harry, listen to your sister.”

 

Harry huffs, removing his hand from Matty's crotch and handing Gemma the other shaker. Gemma winks triumphantly, and Matty is finally able to eat in peace.

 

“Gemma, honey, I need some pepper,” says Anne, and Gemma's eyes go wide and she blushes, grabbing the closest napkin to her and wiping the shaker as fast as she can.

 

“Germs,” she stammers, glaring at Harry. “It can be hard to get rid of them, y'know?”

 

“O... kay,” says Anne slowly, and Denise starts laughing, making a comment about how strange kids are these days. Gemma nods mockingly, and Matty is pretty sure that he just heard the sound of Gemma kicking Harry's leg.

 

Later that night, after they've said goodnight to the ladies and pretended to be exhausted, Harry jerked off Matty in record time, which wasn't that difficult, really, since he had been painfully hard since dinner. Matty decides to get back at Harry, pushing him so he falls back on the mattress, holding his hips in place so he can't go anywhere, which Harry seems to enjoy.

 

Matty's fingers dig hard into Harry's hips, the bone sharp against Matty's skin, and he starts sucking on the inside of Harry's thighs, hard enough to leave bruises behind.

 

“Do you think Gemma suspects something?” asks Matty, lips close to Harry's cock.

 

“I would rather not think about my sister right now-oh.” And Harry stops talking, whimpering as Matty starts sucking him off. Matty pulls back, licking his lips and smirking at Harry.

 

“Be quiet.”

//

 

She spends her afternoons watching what she calls "The Matty and Harry Programme," which consists of Matty acting like a sad puppy in front of Harry, with Harry staring longingly at Matty's (quite non-existent) bum, and a combination of half-phrases and awkward smiles. It's disgusting, really.

 

Gemma knows there's something going on, something more than a friendship, she has known all along, but she won't bring it up until Harry does. It's mesmerizing how much two people can say without actually talking to each other, and it makes Gemma's heart warm up at the thought.

 

She watches television with Matty and Harry during a particularly rainy evening, since Denise and her mum have gone out, and they have the house to themselves. They watch comedies and bad reality TV, eating as much junk food as they can.

 

She nods off after a while, and wakes up to the sound of gunshots in the TV background. She glances at the boys, eyes narrowed so they can't see that she is awake, and her heart stops for a second.

 

Matty looks sad, eyes closed, and his head is resting on Harry's lap. Her brother's fingers are tangled in Matty's hair, gently massaging his scalp, and Gemma feels as if she has walked in to something terribly private.

 

“It's okay,” whispers Harry, his fingers now tracing Matty's forehead, soon landing on Matty's cheekbone. Matty's eyes are open now, and he smiles when one of Harry's fingers brushes the tip of his nose.

 

Gemma should probably leave, or something, but she doesn't want to ruin the moment.

 

Harry's fingers slowly make their way to Matty's lips, playfully tickling them. As he's about to move his hand, Matty reaches for it, kissing Harry's fingertips slowly, patiently, lingering for a bit until he decides to hold Harry's hand close to his chest.

 

God, they're awful.

 

It doesn't take long for them to move to Harry's room, and she waits until she can hear the door closing behind them, and she still waits after that. She turns the TV volume up, indulging in sweets and biscuits until Matty and Harry reemerge from the bedroom an hour later.

 

“What were you up to?” asks Gemma innocently, and she has never seen her brother's face this red before. They watch TV until their mums come home, and eventually Gemma leaves Matty and Harry alone, smiling to herself as she listens to the distant sounds of whatever stupid show they're watching.

 

She's not surprised when she finds them curled up next to each other the next morning, the TV still on. It's early, her mum and Denise are still asleep, so she knows they haven't been found yet. Matty has his arms wrapped around Harry as if embracing an anchor, and Gemma swears that Harry's sleepy smile has never been so wide. Matty wakes up briefly, glances around without noticing Gemma, and he kisses the back of Harry's neck before closing his eyes again.

 

Gemma smiles, and sneaks out without making a sound.

///

 

Harry walks in, yawning as he enters the kitchen, and stops when he sees Anne and Gemma waiting for him.

 

“Denise and Matty went for a walk,” begins Anne. “Matty had something to tell her, I think.”

 

Anne glances at Gemma, not sure how to approach the subject. She clears her throat repeatedly, until Gemma rolls her eyes and faces Harry with determination.

 

“I found you lot this morning,” interrupts Gemma. “Matty wrapped around you like you're some sort of couple now.”

 

Harry's face falls for a moment, but then he just seems embarrassed as he scratches the back of his neck. “He's my mate, that's. That's it.”

 

Gemma raises an eyebrow at him, scoffing loudly. “Harry.”

 

“Gemma.”

 

Anne sighs deeply and looks straight at Harry. “Look, Harry. I just want to make sure you two are being- um, well. You know what I mean.” She sighs again, concern rising in her chest. “I also want you to be aware that Matty's leaving, and that he still needs to focus on recovery and-”

 

“Mum, I know,” says Harry impatiently. “We've talked about it. We're mates. Mates who like each other-”

 

“Mates who snog each other,” teases Gemma. “Stare at each other's bum, just a mates thing, I reckon.”

 

Harry mockingly glares at Gemma, who can't stop laughing as she wraps an arm around her brother's shoulders. “To think I fancied Matty when I was a wee girl,” pouts Gemma. “And he ended up fancying you. That's bollocks.”

 

“I have always been the charming one, though,” says Harry seriously, earning a pinch from Gemma. Anne laughs, glad that her children still act like kids sometimes. It's been a rough road for them, but she finds comfort in the fact that Harry and Gemma will always be there for each other.

 

“So... are you gay?”

 

“Haven't figured that out yet,” says Harry quickly, blushing. “I like Matty. Quite a bit. Too much, maybe.”

 

“I can tell,” says Anne, watching the huge smile on her son's face, and that's enough.

 

///

 

“So, mum?” asks Matty as they walk down the trail, the Styles' home a tiny dot in the distance. “I've been meaning to tell you something.”

 

“Yes?”

 

Matty bites his lip, words scrambled in his head, and this is terrible, maybe he shouldn't say anything. Oh, fuck it.

 

“I've met someone,” he says calmly. “I like him.”

 

“Is it Harry?” she asks, and Matty rolls his eyes and snorts, reaching for the last cigarette he has in his pocket.

 

“You two weren't particularly discreet,” says Denise. “Especially that time I did laundry while you lot were out and, Matty, those sheets-”

 

“Alright, mum, stop,” says Matty in a rush, feeling completely embarrassed.

 

“That's amazing, honey, oh,” she squeals as she hugs him tight. “Harry's such a nice kid, just what you need-”

 

“Mum, we're not getting married,” Matty reminds her. “We are going back to London, and... who knows what will happen. I just wanted you to know that I like Harry, and we've been messing around, but he means more than that to me.”

 

“Either way, I am glad you have him,” says Denise sweetly, cupping Matty's face. “I am glad you are smiling again, and I am glad you are feeling better. I'm here for you, Matty, stop pushing me away. I'm your mother, maybe not a friend, but I will never give up on you.”

 

Matty gulps, tears rolling down his cheeks, and for the first time in months, he hugs his mum back.

 

 

///

 

The last day is spent in a whirlwind of last-minute packing and laughter, anything to avoid the sinking feeling that is starting to corrode Matty's senses. Denise suggests that Anne and Gemma join her for a shopping spree/girls-only outing, which Matty and Harry pretend to be devastated over. Gemma winks at them before they leave, and Matty can tell that Harry seems nervous, which is odd, since they've been alone before.

 

The girls finally leave, and Harry turns to face Matty, smiling nervously.

 

“I'm going to cook for you,” he says quickly, dragging Matty into the kitchen.

 

“Why?” asks Matty, trying not to laugh.

 

“I am not great at cooking, alright?” apologizes Harry, pulling some ingredients out of the fridge, muttering to himself as he sorts them out.

 

“D'you need help?” offers Matty.

 

Harry shakes his head, and he goes through several pans and skillets, dropping everything on the counter. Matty can tell that Harry is freaking out, so he walks over to him, gently wrapping his arms around him before kissing him.

 

“Love, why are you doing this?” chuckles Matty. “You can only make toast.”

 

“Piss off,” says Harry, not meaning it. “I wanted to do something special. Since it's, um, our last day together.”

 

Harry's pouting, sounding a bit broken, and Matty can't have that, so he kisses him, backing Harry up against the counter, sending some pans clashing to ground as they make out heavily, the noise not bothering them at all. Matty lifts Harry up, making him sit on the counter as he continues to kiss him, and Harry's fingers go straight to Matty's hair, tugging on it until it hurts, Harry's legs wrapped around him as they both start to get hard.

 

“Matty,” breathes Harry. “Wait, wait.”

 

“What?” asks Matty breathlessly, pressing a kiss on the side of Harry's neck, teasing the skin with his teeth.

 

“Matty, I think-fuck, Matty, no, seriously-”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I think you should fuck me.”

 

Matty stops nibbling on Harry's neck, his heart pounding as he realizes what Harry just said. He stays still, and fuck yes, he wants to, he wants to fuck Harry so badly, and hearing him saying like that has sent him a little over the edge, and. Okay.

 

“Okay, um.” Matty kisses him, fingers reaching for Harry's belt. “Yeah, okay, okay, bedroom, we have to go, yeah, we can't do it here-”

 

Matty helps Harry jump off the counter and they continue kissing, stepping out of the kitchen without letting go of each other, pushing each other against the wall as they try to make their way back to Harry's room, Matty's hand brushing over Harry's cock, and god, he needs to fuck Harry, now.

 

It all goes by so fast, too fast, Matty doesn't even realize at what point Harry handed him some lube, when did he buy this, and Harry mutters something about condoms in his nightstand's drawer, and yeah, well, he knows Harry has brought girls here before, and Matty has certainly fucked people before, but this is not the same at all.

 

And it's so different because Matty is used to fucking, to getting off just for the sake of getting off, and he's always been rough, and likes it rough and maybe they will get at that point eventually (he doesn't want to think about the future right now). But for now he's enjoying this, enjoying the soft "ahs" that escape Harry's lips when he twists his fingers inside of him, Harry's fingernails digging deep into his skin, trying to hold on as if he's about to pass out, and Harry curses under his breath, hurried gasps making Matty get even harder, but no, he's taking his time, he'll take his time.

 

Harry is begging him, begging him to fuck him already, and Matty wants to, desperately wants to, he has never wanted anything as much as he wants Harry, but he waits.

 

“Let me look at you.”

 

Harry is gasping for breath, chest flushed and bruised, blush-covered patterns adorning Harry's sweaty skin. Matty runs his fingers over Harry's chest, lingering on his stomach, then trailing up to brush Harry's nipples, which cause Harry to hiss, eyes closed as Matty continues his exploring. Matty traces lines on Harry's collarbone, touching skin and leaving trails of nothing and everything, enjoying how Harry shudders under his touch.

 

“It's amazing.”

 

“What is?”

 

“That you are mine for tonight.”

 

Harry opens his eyes, and his lips part to reveal an amused smile, but his eyes are filled with something Matty would rather not think about, he can't, they can't, so he decides to speed things up. He can't say it, but he'll show Harry, he will.

 

Matty fucks him slow, their lips hovering each other's, not kissing, just barely so, the gasps pouring into each other's mouth, Matty's forehead pressed against Harry's as he thrusts in, hips erratic becausethis is just too fucking much, and Harry, Harry's hands clawing at the back of Matty's neck, pulling him closer, wanting to feel him, all of him, whispering and grunting what he wants, needs from Matty.

 

Harry searches for Matty's lips, and Matty kisses back with everything he has, consuming Harry's taste, a taste that he wants to keep in his mind forever, and fuck, Harry sounds so hot when he's fucking him, deep grunts mixed with shattered gasps, god Matty you feel so, and Matty is losing it, his hand sneaking in between them to touch Harry's cock, fingers wrapping around it, and he wanks him off and it's an awkward angle, everything is messy, and the room smells like sweat and sex and boys.

 

Harry is moaning quietly, eyes closed and lips parted, a string of broken ahs sounding like the most beautiful thing Matty has ever heard in his life, and they kiss sloppily, Harry's muffled moans against Matty's lips setting Matty off, his hips thrusting faster, and both of them can't breathe, they just kiss, lightheaded and oxygen-deprived, Harry's legs wrapped around Matty and pulling him closer, andfuck fuck when Matty comes, he comes so hard that he can't hear or see anything for a second, he just tastes Harry and his lips, and he feels Harry shake underneath him, uncontrolled trembles as he spills all over Matty's hand.

 

They both grunt and moan and gasp and hold on to each other, as if both died and resurrected in the span of a second, and Matty kisses every inch of Harry's face, not pulling out just yet, and Harry laughs, laughs for what seems forever, and he sounds so happy, and Matty is addicted to this, he's so far gone, he's completely wrecked.

 

“Matty, I-” But no, Matty doesn't want to hear it, because it will be irreversible, so he just kisses Harry instead.

 

 

///

 

And this is it, the last time Matty will wake up next to Harry, soft snores and light breathing filling the room, and he can't bear it, so he doesn't dwell on it. It's strange, how just a few weeks ago he woke up here in the middle of the night, sweating bullets and aching for a high, just to have Harry calm him down.

 

Now, it's worse, so much worse.

 

He knows everything is uncertain, and although London isn't far away, they probably won't see each other as often as they would like. And maybe, well, maybe Harry will fuck around with someone his age, and Matty won't blame him. Maybe he'll fall in love with a nice girl, or lad, or whatever, and Matty will be invited to the wedding, and they'll fuck in the bathroom before the reception and maybe Matty should fucking stop.

 

He sighs, lips curving as he looks at Harry, who is still dead to the world. Matty's fingers slide over the sheets, not touching Harry just yet, and he hesitates. He still feels revolutions, battles, world warsinside of him whenever this kid is close, and Matty knows he's irrevocably fucked.

 

“You've got me, mate,” he breathes, his hand resting on Harry's cheek. His fingers tense gently, squeezing lightly so he doesn’t wake him up, but the touch is there. Harry feels warm and soft under Matty's palm, and it's a feeling that Matty wants to commit to memory.

 

He gulps, breathing faltering. “Yeah, you've definitely got me.”

 

“Good.” Harry opens his eyes slowly, his sleepy smile creating all kinds of havoc in Matty's heart, and Matty leans in to kiss him. Their limbs are soon tangled with each other's, lips kissing every single inch of skin available, and Matty can't believe he is giving this up.

 

Matty breathes in Harry's scent, unruly curls pressed against his nose, and no, he can't let go. He feels Harry's arms hold him tighter and tighter, and Matty does the same, holding on until their bodies are shaking, as if he's already going through withdrawals, and god help him, this is the hardest thing he's ever done.

 

“Hey, Harry?” says Matty hoarsely. “You know, I can't promise you that I won't make mistakes. But I can promise you that, no matter what happens, what has happened between us will never happen to me again. And that's ours. That's yours. That part of me is yours.”

 

“Yeah,” says Harry, pulling away. Matty kisses him, taking his time.

 

///

 

Anne hugs Denise for the last time, missing her friend already, and they make plans for them to visit London soon. Denise says they better visit before the year ends, and Anne swears by it. Then they both turn to look at the boys, who are still hugging each other in the driveway, but neither of them say a word.

 

“They're adorable,” says Gemma, and then she looks at Anne and Denise and winks. “Don't tell them I said that.”

 

Anne watches Harry whispers something into Matty's ear, and Matty does the same, pressing a long kiss on Harry's cheek before letting go. They start heading their way, Matty's hand on Harry's back, and Gemma pretends to throw up, causing both boys to flip her off, and Gemma starts laughing uncontrollably.

 

“This is it,” says Matty, and Anne notices the red in his eyes. Harry is sniffling, but other than that looks put together, which means he's absolutely falling apart on the inside.

 

Matty gives Anne a hug, a proper hug, and Anne responds enthusiastically, as if letting Matty know that he's a good kid, that she likes him, and that things will be okay.

 

“Thanks, Anne,” says Matty softly, kissing her on the cheek.

 

“Anytime,” says Anne, feeling that she might start crying at any point. Matty hugs Gemma too, who hugs him back sincerely, laughing as Matty mutters something to her. They all chat for a while, avoiding the inevitable, until Denise looks at her watch and says it is time to go back.

 

Harry and Matty look at each other, and Anne can almost hear Harry's heart breaking as Matty hugs him one last time, and she knows it will be a bit of disaster zone after the Healys leave, but she'll be there for Harry, as always.

 

“Here,” says Matty, removing the key that is hanging around his neck.

 

“Why?” asks Harry, grinning widely.

 

“You know.” Matty places the key and the chain on Harry's open palm, and leans in to give Harry a quick kiss.

 

Denise hugs all of them again before getting in the car, and Matty follows, waving at them. Harry glances at his phone and texts something, which Anne's sure he's texting Matty. They wave as Denise's car backs out of their driveway, and they stand there until the car disappears from view. Harry's phone beeps, and he smiles at the screen before turning to look at them.

 

“I should clean my room,” he says, smiling sadly.

 

“I'm sure those sheets are-”

 

“Gemma.”

 

“Sorry, mum.”

 

Anne sighs at both of them and digs out her keys from her pocket, dangling them in front of them.

 

“We can go get some ice cream first, no?”

 

Harry smiles gratefully at her, and Gemma snatches the keys out of Anne's hand and runs off, yelling something about being the driver this time.

 

///

 

“Mum?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“How did you know you were in love with dad?”

 

Denise sighs happily, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she glances at Matty.

 

“I just knew. Maybe two days after we first kissed. I couldn't breathe around him, it was so lovely and chaotic at the same time.”

 

Matty hums, playing with the lighter in his hand, staring at the road ahead.

 

“Why do you ask?”

 

He remembers Harry's smile the first time they saw each other, how it messed with Matty's brain. That might have been it, the moment, and Matty didn't notice right then, but he knows it now. Matty smiles, and shakes his head.

 

“Just wondering.”


End file.
